Pensive
by J. Christopher Gibbs
Summary: Aftermath of Professor Snape finding a student in his Pensieve.


Pensive

January 21, 2011

As she looked around at the room he'd pulled her back into, she realized what had just happened. When her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, they focused on him. Her mind was still spinning with what she had seen; his childhood. It had been an accident, she had fallen in to the Pensieve, but of course he wasn't going to accept that story. She was determined to try anway.

"I…I…," she stuttered, but fell silent as she saw the lines of fury in his face. He slowly stepped toward her, and as he got closer, she noticed there were tears in his eyes.

"You will tell no one what you have seen, nor will it ever be spoken of again." His voice was dangerously quiet.

"Sir, I-"

"Get. Out." His face was inches from her own, and though it was unreadable, his eyes held much pain. She put her hand on his cheek, and for an instant, they stood there, saying nothing. And then he roughly grabbed her arm and threw it aside. As he did so, there was a sickening crack, and the unmistakable sound of shattering glass. Her arm had met the glass potion bottles on the shelf she had backed into. She sank to the floor and stifled a scream with her hand. His eyes widened in shock and terror as it dawned on him what he had done.

His tears overflowed as he knelt beside her, shaking with sobs.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I-I can help. Please let me help, please, I promise I-I…" Her hand was still covering her mouth, and her face was white as a sheet. Their eyes met, and then they both looked down at her arm.

The potions within the broken bottles had spilled everywhere. There were shards of glass stuck all the way up her arm, and when she looked at them, she saw that some of the bottle's contents had mixed with her own blood. He saw this too, and knowing exactly what each solution was alarmed him all the more; they were poisons.

She looked back up at him, but his gaze was fixed on her many wounds. They were speechless. His sobbing had stopped, though there still tears running down his hooked nose. When he finally looked up, he quietly told her, "I need to fix these now. I'm sorry." As he apologized for the pain to come, he looked as if he was about to break down again, but he held it together. "Can you stand up?" he asked.

She tried, but as she moved her shoulder, overwhelming pain shot through her arm and neck. She fell back down. He realized there was something else wrong.

"My collarbone…," she whispered, but couldn't go on.

"Damn," he said under his breath. He pushed away the collar of her blouse and discovered, to his horror, a bloody mess. The bone had broken through her skin, and she was bleeding profusely. It was no wonder she was so pale. Why hadn't he noticed?

"What's wrong?" she asked. Instead of answering her, he thought hard. There was nothing he could do to move her with out hurting her, or first putting her under a spell. And that was not an option due to the nature of the potions that were now flooding her system. So he worked around her as best as he could, trying not to jostle her too much. He quickly was able to remove the glass from her skin, and she didn't cry or resist. Though she could tell he was greatly shaken, she was unable to comfort him, and he wouldn't tell her what was wrong. She could not move for fear of disrupting him or hurting herself more. She tried to stay calm, but as he steadily siphoned out the poison with his wand, she became more and more aware that there was a greater problem.

After what seemed like forever, the glass was gone, her veins no longer full of poison. For a moment, he was still. He stood up and walked across the room. He pulled a small bottle of misty bluish liquid from a dusty corner, and walked back over.  
>"Drink this; it will dull the pain a little. Oh," He said as he remembered that she was nearly unconscious with pain. But she had heard him, and let him tip the contents of the bottle into her open mouth. With his free hand, he began healing her wounds.<p>

When the bottle was empty, she felt much better. He noticed that the bleeding had stopped, and she was no longer the shade of a ghost. "I can stand," she said. Her words were bold, but she wasn't sure she could actually do it.

"No, you can't." She opened her eyes and met his.

"Yes sir. I can stand." She stared straight ahead, and for a moment did not appear to be doing anything. Soon though, she had moved her functional arm enough to reach the edge of the shelf, and proceeded to try and lift herself. All remaining color drained from her face, but slowly, very slowly, she pulled herself up into a standing position. She took a step forward, and then faltered. It seemed as though she would fall. In order to prevent further damage, he slipped an arm around her waist and helped her to the chair in front of his desk. When she sat, she closed her eyes in exhaustion from such exertion, but her face showed grim satisfaction. She was no mere child, she had shown him that much at least. Which had, of course, been her intention.

Now he was hesitant, but was unsure why. It was just a collarbone, after all. He lightly touched her shoulder, and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath.

"Sorry," he said. Even more gently, he told her what had happened. "It's broken," he finally said. "I broke it." And with that the tears began anew, silently coursing down his face. She didn't know what to say; it was true. So she sat still and let him weep, and tried to focus on what her excuse would be for coming back to the dormitory so late. It had to be nine o'clock, at least. Her fellow Ravenclaws would be wondering where she was. She'd say she got detention, and they would stare in amazement. She had, after all, talked back to Professor Snape that morning. There was no need to let them know why she had really come to his office tonight. Her friends would be livid if they found out about the advanced tutoring she was getting. And somehow, she had a feeling he wouldn't be happy if she let out the fact that he actually had a heart and not just a black hole, as they all thought. She grinned slightly as she thought this, and he did not miss it.

"What?" he asked her. "Is this funny to you?"

"No sir. I was just wondering what you would do if the other students found out that you have a heart after all."

"Not funny, Miss Edwards. Not in the least."

He had stopped crying now, and started waving his wand, casting intricate healing spells on the injury. It was a clean break, but had missed an important artery by less than an inch. He realized that the bone was going to have to be pushed back into place for it to have a chance of growing back correctly.

"Miss Edwards, but this is going to hurt quite a bit. Brace yourself."

And with a single flick of his wand, the bone slid back into place. She passed out.


End file.
